


beatus vir qui suffert tentationem

by SeeCee



Category: Chronicles of Narnia - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Mythology - Freeform, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-09
Updated: 2017-03-09
Packaged: 2018-10-01 17:17:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10194788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeeCee/pseuds/SeeCee
Summary: "Do not copulate with anyone for a whole year and I shall recompense you for it."The God of passion and the God of reason made a bet, now the winner wants to claim his prize.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [seraphicLioness](https://archiveofourown.org/users/seraphicLioness/gifts).



> Prideful and naughty young gods galore, enjoy!

On the hottest day of summer Litha is celebrated. The villagers, townsfolk, and speaking creatures all gather at the temple of Peter to offer food and drink and valuable trinkets. As he is not only the patron saint of summer but the God of passion and war also, some people will sacrifice white bulls or their first lambs of the year for luck in battle and favour with conquests. The feast lasts three days and three nights and ends more often than not in open, enthusiastic fornication.

Which Peter always enjoys watching but never joins in. None of his siblings do either, though that may be simply because it is not in their nature.

 

His sister Susan, patroness of autumn, is the Goddess of grace and beauty. She is the favoured deity of most mothers and eligible young women, who hope to secure a good match for their families. Whereas, those who fall too easily into pride and vanity, Susan tends to send misery, leaving not few of them disfigured. In her mind it is clear: If you do not cultivate your inner grace and beauty as well as your outer, you deserve none at all.

Susan is not a vicious deity, in fact she is probably the most human of them. How often have Peter and his siblings watched her give her heart and affections to a beautiful mortal man only for him to slowly wither and decay, or worse, reject her. Those never lived to see old age. Susan would howl in rage and pain, could only be consoled by her spring sister Lucy, Goddess of love and health.

As a vowed maiden, their youngest spend most of her time running and playing with the dryads of her forest and the naiads of the sea. Occasionally, she takes interest in the fate of humanity but then only of those very young or old.

Even now she dances with the faun children around the campfire. The dryads have woven her a most becoming crown of rose and pink wildflowers.

Susan, with her long flowing hair, delicately styled with a braid here and there, lounges on the pillows close to Peter. Her ornate tunic shows her body in the most flattering way. Not that any of the humans could see. The Gods are still disguised from sight, a revealing always send them into a frenzy of piety and prudence, most detrimental to exuberant feasts such as this.

 

Susan's focus is intently trained on a young telmarine prince, Caspian is his name. He must have unknowingly caught her eye weeks ago already. He is as strikingly handsome and popular as could only be the case through Susan's blessings. Most of the time she isn't even aware she is doing it, which then leaves her like this, squashing grapes in furious jealousy as she watches Caspian dance with one pretty girl after another.

Peter himself, laurels in his hair, is dressed in a rich but very light, red tunic. He observes his sisters, his guests and the humans with impassive joy. It is the third day of the celebrations and there has been not but a gust of cold air from their brother.

Thoughtfully, he drinks from his wine, contemplating what kind of reaction could bring Edmund out of hiding the fastest. Perhaps he should invite one of the lovely tree daughters to his table. Then again, his brother's ire is easily earned but twice as hard to placate. Maybe all it will take is a woeful sigh of exasperation carried along the winds to tickle the delicate shell of his ears.

"Still no sign of Edmund?" A flushed but glowing Lucy drops into the cushions on Peter's left.

"You should not have made that bet with him," Susan chimes in, never turning her eyes away from her dancing mortal. "He always gets so fickle, especially when he lost."

"I construed it that way that should he lose, we'd both still win," Peter says petulantly.

"How very patronising," Susan mutters.

Lucy's hand lands on Peter's.

"You know him, he probably just wants to toy with you a little longer. He'll come."

"Well, yes,  _that_ was exactly what I wanted-"

Suddenly a cold draft whips over them.

"You're as vulgar as ever, I see," Edmund remarks, standing there, pale skin, dark hair, clothed in thick furs that reach all the way to cover his bare legs down to his knees.

Their wintry brother, the God of reason and games, has finally arrived. With a delighted gasp Lucy jumps up. The siblings clasp hands and exchange an innocent kiss. Peter's hold on his cup tightens, regardless. Indeed, he has waited long for this day.

Susan gets up to greet her brother as well, her greeting remains as a little smack on the cheek.

As usual, she is the most perceptive to their eldest possessive passions.

"Drink, brother, feast with us!" Peter announces with a sweeping gesture.

Edmund lightly bows his head at him.

"Yes, come and sit," Lucy invites.

"Next to me," Peter orders. "To my right."

Edmund complies smoothly. The lush fur around him bulges and billows as he sinks into his seat.

"Interesting wardrobe choice," Peter notices, filling another goblet. "Are you not afraid of overheating?"

"And you? Do you plan on it?" Graciously, he accepts the drink. "This garment of yours is so light I'm surprised it covers anything. Though, it is better, than that piece of cloth you wore last year, which you insisted was a breechclout."

Peter chuckles.

"I'm glad you keep my efforts in fond memory."

"'Fond'," Edmund scoffs amused. "That is a word for it, I suppose."

Next to them Lucy gets waved over for another dance by her dryadian friends. Susan is lost in her own trifles again.

Peter's hand touches Edmund's exposed knee. Unbelievably in this heat, goosebumps erupt. He leans in very close.

"I believe I've won our bet and am looking forward to claiming my prize."

Edmund grins, turns his face until their lips are inches apart and their eyes transfixed by each other.

"And I believe," Edmund utters huskily, "that you are full of yourself."

With that he shoves the offending hand from him and sits back, creating distance between them. Peter stares at him perplexed.

"I do not understand."  
"I'm sure."

"Is this another game?"

In response, Edmund gives him a pointed glare.

"Just because I am the God of- "

"I did not mean to make a joke," Peter interrupts hastily. "In fact, I am quite serious. What have I done to ignite your disfavour?"

Edmund sneers dismissing.

"Spare me those ludicrous puppy eyes of yours, they can not fool me."

As his nature makes him so wont to do, Peter feels his patience run out and being replaced by hot-headed temper.

"Just when I thought you warmed up to me, reciprocated my feverish desire you show me how cold the master of winter truly is," he thunders his hurt. "Have I not proven myself? Demonstrated the sincerity of my devotion? I accepted the task you set for me, I refrained a whole year from coupling anyone, remained entirely celibate to prove fidelity and worth as your potential partner or have you thought yourself so clever I wouldn't see the true reason behind that bet of ours?"

Scandalised, Edmund stares at him. Even Susan is pulled from her own obsessive observations.

"You speak of sincerity and yet have no qualms lying to my very face! Did _you_ think I wouldn't know? See through such a simple trick?"

"What are you saying?" Peter demands. "What heinous crime am I to be accused of this time?"

In indignation Edmund shoots up.

"Did you really think I wouldn't hear? Perhaps if it had been any other God's priestess but you had to have mine! Ravished her and send her to hide in Lucy's sanctuary for unwed mothers!"

"Edmund-"

"'Immaculate conception' is what they call it, don't make me laugh!"

Promptly, he is about to storm off. Peter grabs his wrist and yanks him back down. Hitting the pillows hard, Peter swiftly puts a leg over him, effectively trapping his brother.

"You will not vilify my name like this and then leave!" he roars.

Defiantly, Edmund meets his stormy gaze. However, he is not careless enough to struggle against the hold.

"Second of all," Peter continues. "That of which you accuse me, I did not do and had indeed no knowledge of until a second ago when it was so rudely thrown at me."

Not entirely convinced, Edmund searches Peter's gaze.

"I'm supposed to believe you speak the truth?"

"He does," Susan interjects, pulling her younger brother's attention onto her. Peter's own gaze wavers not from the prey beneath his paws. "It was me who send the girl to Lucy. That poor creature had let itself be swooned by the honeyed words of a questing Lord, who had sought for food and shelter on the door step. It was me that told her under which lie to hide her shame and where to seek refuge. Peter is innocent... and faithful," she concludes.

Slowly, Ed turns his head back to face his brother.

"Will you now believe," Peter begins, taking Edmund's hand and guiding it between their bodies to press against his filled cock. "That this has always been for you?"

Edmund's pupils dilate in covetous hunger. He yanks Peter down by the neck and claims his godly brother in a bruising kiss. Peter moans, grinding his fevered loins down.

"High time for me to make my own move," Susan clucks, dulled her shining aura and making her way to capture handsome Caspian.

"I've watched you," Edmund breathes, arching his neck for Peter's heated lips. "The whole year I watched you. I was so pleased because never you looked at any mortal beauty for long and when you touched yourself there was only ever one name on your lips."

"Edmund," Peter answers.

"Yes, but when for the winter solstice I had found my favourite priestess missing I wanted to wring your neck," Edmund threatens, his nails scraping along Peter's golden skin. "Because who else would have dared, who else would have been able to sneak past my glances."

"A common noble, as it turns out," Peter says, meeting Edmund's eyes. "I would chuckle at you, if I weren't so certain it would chase you right out of my arms."

"Indeed."

"But it does flatter me," Peter continues, wholly unnecessary. "The God of reason blinded by unfounded, outright illogical jealousy. It pleases me," Peter purrs.

"And it would please me if you would put that smug mouth of yours to better use."  
"So I shall," Peter promises with a grin. "But first I wish to finally behold my prize."

With lowered lashes, Edmund's hands fall from Peter. After all their back and forth, after all their waiting, he is ready to give himself wholly to his mighty brother.

Reverently, Peter begins to divest the thick fur from the lithe body, revealing inch for delicious inch of skin. First, he lays the shoulders free, marvels at their delicate build, next are the well-formed collarbones. Then there is the chest, smooth and decorated with two frail rose buds that Peter can not wait to sink his teeth in. Further is the stomach, he watches an anticipatory breath forming and stalling before shakily being exhaled. Only one last bit is missing. Peter strokes one finger over the soft pelt, just so feeling the hardness underneath before finally laying Edmund all bare.

Peter's lips stretch into a wide grin.

"Oh my pale-thighed brother, how have I longed for this moment."

It is beautiful to look at, just the right size, flushed at the tip, already leaking. With his finger Peter collects a stray drop and puts it to his mouth. Edmund's hooded eyes follow.

"Sweeter than ambrosia.”

"Do not make me wait," Edmund whines.

Peter's expression gets a shade darker.

"I ought to keep you like this for a whole year."

"You could not."

"Oh but I could. Passion, as war, is rarely a fickle thing, indeed it frequently lasts longer than either party expects. Especially unresolved."

"Torment me not, brother," Edmund pleads, his finger and feet trying to bring him closer.

"You do not think you deserve it?" Peter hardly budges but he does allow Edmund's hand on his cheek.

"I have suffered as much as you," he insists. "This game of mine was not half as entertaining as I had hoped."

"Well, in that case," Peter mutters, letting his tunic fall away, he lowers himself until their bodies, from lips to chests to stomachs to cocks, are only inches apart. "I think I shall grant us both swift release."

Edmund rears up. Snatching Peter close, he licks hungrily into him. Both can't help the drawn-out moans. The taste and feel of Edmund is sinfully exquisite. It is like nothing he could have imagined. It is the nature of Edmund's being to always be a degree colder than his surroundings and it makes the friction between him and Peter's inherent heat all the more prominent.

“How do you wish to claim your prize?” Edmund nips at his chin, his thighs clamp around Peter's waist and his fingernails graze his firm ass.

“In every way known and unknown to mortal men.”

“That sounds like quite the endeavour,” Edmund smirks pleased. “Just how long do you plan on keeping me?”

“Until the stars rain down the heavens and our kind has long been forgotten.”

Edmund laughs merrily.

“How ambitious you are, brother.”

“I have wanted you for as long, I will not deny it any more.”

A thoughtful gaze grows on the young God's face.

“You truly mean to keep me.”

“Yes.”

“Hmm, what if I do not wish to be kept?”

“Then I shall have to make you wish it.”

Before another retort can come from that grinning mouth Peter descends into another kiss. Edmund surrenders, his body curving into Peter's and his mouth is pliant. For a moment Peter's thumbs rub over the rosy nipples. Edmund mewls encouragingly, pressing his erection upwards again and again. Then Peter moves his head to replace fingers with tongue, he sucks and nips greedily at the sensitive nubs. In tantalizing lust Edmund tears at his own hair.

“I asked you not to torment me, brother,” he whines, biting his own lip.

“And I said you deserve it,” Peter grins but with one arm he tugs the bowl of oil closer.

 

With slick fingers he dances around Edmund's asshole, tracing along the crack in a feather-light mock of a touch, circles it in the same manner eventually gives in and presses forward. Edmund yells out a curse most unbecoming of a deity but Peter also catches the megalomaniacal grin of finally having gotten what he wanted.

Still hungering for more, for everything it seems, Edmund places one hand in Peter's hair and gently pushes. He gets the hint. With a second finger inside his brother, Peter licks a long stripe from the balls up to the tip of Edmund's gorgeously flushed cock. A breathy laugh of arousal leaves Edmund as his finger's tighten in Peter's golden strands.

Continuing to suck and lap and nip, Peter manages to work three fingers in. The heat and tightness surrounding them makes him light-headed with eagerness. A last deep suck down his throat and he abandons Edmund, earning him a displeased grunt.

“You seem to have forgotten that it was me who won the reward,” Peter chuckles.

Seductively, Edmund lets one of his hands travel down his body, over chest and nipples and stomach, stilling just before his spit-shiny cock.

“Of course not, brother, how could I ever.”

“Well, good, then-”

Quick as lightning Edmund flips them. Being on top now, he lowers his head close to Peter's startled face.

“And I will make sure you receive it,” he promises. 

Dipping his fingers in the oil himself, he levers himself up for a moment to make Peter nice and slick for him. At this first direct stimulation Peter claws into the fur beneath him, before thinking better of it and sinking them into the softness of Edmund's creamy thighs instead. No reason to hold back now. Edmund regards him pleased, strokes Peter a couple more times and then  _finally_ positions them. The head of his dick nudges Edmund's tender opening. Peter takes a sharp intake of breath. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, he feels himself pushing inside. Edmund's eyes, so intently focused at him, slip shut. The hand guiding his cock disappears, his own are tightening so much he will not be surprised to still see their imprints in the morning. A high-pitched, needy noise from Edmund and Peter is fully inside. The heat and tightness that shortened his breath earlier already when it was just his fingers, now feel so overwhelming, Peter's cock twitches in anticipation of actually moving.

Edmund's fingers scrabble over Peter's stomach and chest.

“So deep,” he marvels in breathless bliss.

Taking Edmund's hand Peter guides it up to his lips.

“Show me how much you want me.”

Hearing the thick-laced but helpless desire in his brother's voice Edmund begins to move. Excruciatingly slowly at first, dragging Peter so languidly along his channel, every inch sends thrills up and down his spine. Then just before he can slip out again, Edmund lowers himself. He sighs passionately. After a couple of these adjusting and savouring moves, he suddenly opens his eyes, grins at Peter and slams down full force. A chocked off gasp escapes him, his hands digging into Edmund's thighs anew.

But his brother is going for the peak now, so he plucks Peter's hands from him and yanks them up to press into the pillows. With their interlocked fingers Edmund begins a brutal pace, riding Peter's cock with abandon. His hips snap, his thighs tense and Peter is almost helplessly trying to keep up. Every time he does manage to rock his pelvis in rhythm with Edmund, he incites a litany of harsh moans.

Then Edmund lets go of his hands and sits upright. He swirls his hips and Peter uses his regained freedom to grab Edmund's plush ass, forcing him to keep bouncing on his dick.

“Fuck, oh Peter,” he groans, fisting his cock with one hand and his hair with the other. “I'm gonna come, I'm gonna- !”

With a particularly brutal thrust Peter hits Edmund's sweet spot head on, leaving him powerless to form coherent words. Keeping him thus in place Peter starts a rapid onslaught, fucking ruthlessly into this tight, little hole. Completely overwhelmed by pleasure Edmund loses his composure, letting Peter jostle and use him. Only his hand still wanks him furiously. Peter half sits at that point and with a harsh bite to Edmund's hardened nipple, he makes him come. Edmund screams through his convulsions, feeling his hole spasm around the thick length inside him that still moves relentlessly.

 

“Oh, Peter,” Edmund sighs satisfied, having just experienced an overpowering orgasm. “Ah-”

Just like that Peter turned them back around. Holding Edmund's legs up, Peter's thigh have the best leverage to fuck into Edmund's pliant, limp body to chase his own release down. Edmund does not try to do much with either hands or mouth, when Peter is in a zone like this it will be a distraction if anything at all. As long as he keeps clenching around him, no matter how weak and sensitive he already feels, it will certainly suffice. Unexpectedly, Peter only ruts into him for a couple of seconds before deciding to let all his mass fall on Edmund, capturing his mouth and snapping his hips in tiny, sharp thrusts. Surprised, but not displeased Edmund reciprocates the sloppy kiss.

“Edmund,” Peter murmurs then, his strong arms engulfing his younger brother completely. “Edmund, Edmund.”

Suddenly, his hips still and Edmund feels the hot seed rooting itself deep inside him.

 

For a couple of minutes they hardly stirr, only their heaving chests and lazy tongues move against each other. Then Peter untangles them. The spent cock scarcely left him and Edmund misses it again already.

Letting out a breathless little laugh Peter's back hits the cushions. Edmund snuggles into his sweaty but warm and golden side, nestling against his chest. Peter's arm comes down around him.

"Promise not to let me wait another year for a repetition."

Edmund's back, as his grin, curves like a cat.

"How about a bet?"

 


End file.
